


Teamwork

by ceealaina



Series: It Happens Like This [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Endgame Fix-It, Fix-It, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of Sam/Bucky, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceealaina/pseuds/ceealaina
Summary: Square: T2- Past TenseRating: TWarnings: Endgame SpoilersPairing: Mostly Gen (unless you’ve got shipper goggles on). Mentions of Sam/BuckySummary: “Steve caught the glimpse of blindingly bright light, saw the way Tony’s smile flickered, and he understood.”Another way Endgame could have played out.





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feyrelay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrelay/gifts).



> Thank you to @feyrelay for the idea and beautiful imagery (and for letting me scream endlessly about this movie).

Steve’s ears were ringing, his eyesight blurred. He coughed, trying to get his bearings. There were screams all around him, the clang of weapons, and he was so, so tired, but he couldn’t give in, not yet. Blinking to try and clear his vision, he pulled himself to his feet just in time to see Thanos throw Tony off, the other man landing a few feet away from Steve. He started to call out Tony’s name but his voice caught on the word, and he choked. And then, horrified, his gaze slipped to Thanos’s gauntleted hand, watching as, almost in slow motion, Thanos lifted his arm in the air and snapped his fingers.

And nothing happened. 

Everything moving too fast now, Steve snapped his gaze to Tony, finding the other man already looking at him, the smirk on his face almost hiding the sadness in his eyes.

“Trust me?” he asked, voice somehow carrying across the battlefield, and all Steve could do was nod because he did, and should have always. Then Tony’s own gauntlet, the one Steve hadn’t realized was already removed from his right arm flew through the air toward him. Steve caught the glimpse of blindingly bright light, saw the way Tony’s smile flickered, and he understood. Tony’s mouth formed the word ‘sorry,’ and Steve had time to nod in response before the gauntlet was closing around his hand.

The pain was excruciating, worse than the serum, worse than the ice, worse than anything Steve had ever felt in his life. Distantly he could hear himself screaming as fire shot up his arm, into his shoulder, his neck. His head was pounding and he could feel the power of the stones crawling into his mind. He was shaking with it, could barely breathe with the pain, but forced himself to focus, to open his eyes.

He could see Tony, still watching him and keeping his eyes locked on him, Steve drew his arm upright. ‘Dust Thanos and his army, dust Thanos and his army, dust Thanos and his army,’ he thought over and over and with the last bit of strength in his body, he put his fingers together and snapped.

**

For a long time there was nothing and then, as if through a dream, Steve could hear someone calling his name. Fighting his way through to consciousness, he forced his eyes open, nearly passing out again as he became aware of the absolute agony his body was in.

“Steve? Steve!”

Tony was there then, kneeling over him with his helmet gone and looking Steve over with frantic eyes.

“Oh god, Steve. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just... I couldn’t...”

With the last bit of his energy, Steve lifted his hand - his left hand, because he couldn’t feel his right at all, and couldn’t find the energy to even worry about that - and set it on Tony’s forearm. He couldn’t make the words come, but Tony seemed to understand what he was trying to say anyway.

“Jesus, Steve,” he said, slumping back a little with a choked laugh. “You shouldn’t be comforting me right now.” He looked up, somewhere over Steve’s head. “Just hold on, okay?”

Steve could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness again, but he forced himself to hold on just a little longer. “Did we win?” he asked. His voice was a choked whisper, words slurred almost beyond recognition, but apparently it was enough because Tony stilled and met Steve’s eyes, nodding with an exhausted, relieved, _pained_ smile. Steve managed to smile in turn before he lost consciousness again.

**

When Steve woke up again, it was in a white, clinical hospital room, to a steady beeping of machines, and when he rolled his head to the side, Tony was in a chair beside his bed. The other man was asleep, head rolled back at an uncomfortable looking angle. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess, clothes rumpled, and beard unkempt. Steve frowned at him, trying to get his bearings.

“T-” he managed to get out before choking and coughing violently.

Tony was up in an instant, boosting up the pillows behind Steve’s back and grabbing a glass of water from the table beside him, holding a straw to his lips so he could take careful sips. “Easy, easy,” he was murmuring in the same sort of soothing tone that Steve imagined he probably used on Morgan. “Just take it slowly, Steve.” He brushed a strand of Steve’s hair back from his forehead, not seeming to notice what he was doing, and Steve couldn’t help sighing as he leaned into the cool touch.

When he felt like he could breathe again, Steve leaned back against the pillows and Tony set the cup back on the table, settling on the side of Steve’s mattress. Steve could feel his body, a solid weight against his leg. Swallowing a couple times, he tried speaking again.

“How long’ve I been out?” he whispered hoarsely, wincing at how raw his voice sounded even to his own ears.

Tony shrugged at the ground, fingers picking idly at a thread on the thin sheet. “Battle was a couple of weeks ago. You’ve been awake a few times over the last couple of days though.” He met Steve’s eyes fleetingly; his own were red and heavy. “You don’t remember?” At Steve’s head shake, Tony dropped his gaze again. “Well, that’s fair. You got hit pretty hard, and all.”

Even through the haze that was his current state of mind, Steve knew Tony well enough to tell he was deflecting. Wincing a little at the ache in his muscles, he shifted enough to nudge Tony with his thigh.

“We did win, right?”

Tony’s head snapped up at that, startled. “What? Of course we won. Don’t think you’d be in a hospital bed if we’d lost.”

It was only the headache that kept Steve from rolling his eyes. “Then why are you lookin’ like the world is ending? Again?”

He expected Tony to at least crack a smile but instead he made a pained noise. “Steve, your arm. It’s not healing, not at all. We don’t know what we’re dealing with here, but at this point they don’t know if it ever will.”

Steve hadn’t actually considered his arm, but at Tony’s words he tilted his head to the right. There were no bandages, so at least it wasn’t open wounds, but the skin was blackened and raw looking, the arm smaller than he remembered, like he’d lost muscle tone. He tried to lift his fingers and, with a detached sensation, felt his hand shake at the attempt. He had a feeling that was going to be a bitch to deal with when the rest of his body healed up.

“Oh.”

Tony made another pained noise, dragging his hand over his face. “Fuck, I hate magic,” he mumbled before meeting Steve’s gaze again. “Steve, I’m so sorry. It should have been me, I should have held it, I just, I thought you might have a chance. And it’s your right arm. How are you ever going to...”

Hold the shield, he didn’t say.

Steve shook his head. “Tony, if it did this to me, it would have killed you. You made the right call.”

Tony wasn’t looking convinced, staring at the floor again, but Steve wasn’t above pulling out the big stops.

“Tony, you’re a father now. Were you really going to make me look that adorable little girl in the eyes and tell her her Daddy wasn’t coming home because Captain America is a giant schmuck who couldn’t put on a fancy glove?”

Tony’s head whipped up to look at him, eyes wide and wet, but he huffed out an incredulous laugh. “You’re still an asshole, Rogers.”

Steve felt his lips quirk into a faint grin before he sobered again. Using what little energy he had, he settled his good hand on top of the one still picking at the bedspread, settling Tony’s twitching fingers. “Tony,” he said, waiting until the other man met his eyes to continue. “I told you, we’d do this together. And you got to admit, that was some pretty epic teamwork.” He waited a beat, and this time Tony did crack a faint smile. “I got no problem taking the hit if it means we walk all out of there alive.”

“Even if it means you can’t be Captain America anymore?” Tony asked dryly, but there was a crooked grin on his face and it was a start. Steve shrugged, trying to ignore the way his aching muscles protested the movement.

“I’ve got a few plans for the shield anyway.”

**

It was another couple weeks before he’d healed completely - arm aside - and he’d had no shortage of visitors in that time. Everyone he knew had stopped by, his friends and family seeming to take it in turns to make sure he was never alone until he was sometimes a little desperate for some peace and quiet.

He’d regained a little more use of his arm than they’d initially anticipated, once he was awake enough to start trying to move it, and while he wasn’t sure he’d ever regain full use, he could still write, and draw, and perform basic tasks, and that was enough for now.

Tony had come by to return the shield in all its glory (and Steve shouldn’t have been even remotely surprised that Tony had made sure to fix it up), Morgan in tow. She’d been shy at first, peering at him tentatively from where she was half-hidden behind Tony’s leg, but before long she was climbing up on his bed and sitting beside him, grabbing at his arms - with Tony hovering to make sure she didn’t grab the wrong one - and telling him outrageous stories about fighting a squid army deep under the ocean in the Iron Man suit. Steve knew he was grinning like an idiot, but she reminded him so much of Tony that it was a little unreal. Tony seemed to know what he was thinking, if the rueful grin he gave Steve every time they caught each other’s eyes was any indication.

And, not that he’d had second thoughts for even a second, but when Morgan had climbed into Tony’s lap demanding cuddles, and Tony had mouthed a thank you over the top of her head, Steve had known with absolute certainty that this was the way things were supposed to have gone.

**

A couple of days before he was finally due to be released, Steve was wandering the hospital gardens with Sam and Bucky, listening to the two of them bicker (and noticing the soft touches between them that they thought they were being subtle about) and enjoying the fresh air. He tuned out their actual words, just letting their voices roll over him, until Bucky was suddenly beside him, nudging him not gently in the side and ignoring Steve’s yelp of protest.

“So listen,” he started, and Steve groaned internally. “I know I’m your idol and role model and everything...”

“Literally could not be further from the case,” Steve assured him.

“But you really don’t have to do _everything_ I do,” he continued as if Steve hadn’t spoken. “Losing your arm? Really? Come on, punk, now we’ve got two good arms between us.”

Steve rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t stick like that. On his other side, Sam snorted with laughter.

“There’s something wrong with you, man.”

Bucky arched his eyebrows at him, smirking brightly. “What does that say about you, then?”

“He’s got you there,” Steve couldn’t help pointing out, laughing when Sam just spluttered at him.

“And I mean...” Bucky held his left arm out in front of him, rolling his wrist consideringly. “At least I’ve got this super cool fake arm. Totally badass and sexy as hell.” He cast a disparaging look on Steve’s right arm. “What are you gonna do with that thing, huh? Flail someone into submission?” He met Steve’s eyes with a wink. “Certainly can’t be Captain America anymore.” He held Steve’s gaze, smirking, and then turned suddenly away. “Oh look, I think I see a... monkey,” he announced, before wandering off from the two of them, blatantly giving them some alone time. 

“What the fuck?” Sam asked, staring after him. Steve snorted with laughter and Steve turned his gaze on him. “I’m telling you man. There’s something wrong your boyfriend.”

“ _My_ boyfriend?” Steve repeated, delighted to see Sam looking rarely flustered.

“Shut up,” he mumbled in return.

“Sam,”Steve said with a laugh, sliding the case of the shield off his shoulder. “Look, there’s no way to say this that doesn’t make me pretentious as hell, so here.” He passed the shield to Sam, who took it more on instinct than anything.

“I... what?” he asked, blinking from Steve to the shield and back again.

Steve gave him a rueful smile. “You must have noticed that I can’t exactly hold it anymore. But we still need a Captain America.”

“And you want me?”

“No one I’d trust more.”

Sam looked down at the shield in his hand before looking back up at a Bucky, watching them from across the way with a grin on his face. Sam clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you, Steve.”

They stayed that way a moment before starting to walk again, moving back toward Bucky.

“You know it’s gonna be weird not having you by my side anymore,” Sam admitted. 

“Well, you know. I’m still gonna be around. Besides, Sam. You can’t be a sidekick forever.”

Steve winked at him before running ahead - he still had his speed, at least - and leaving Sam spluttering after him. 

“Sidekick?” he yelled incredulously. “You think I was your _sidekick_? Man, get your ass back here.” 

And for the first time in a long time, Steve thought everything might be actually okay.


End file.
